The Magic of Mooncalves
by Night Zephyr
Summary: Officially, the Trio are in detention, collecting Mooncalf dung for Professor Sprout's prized herbs. But what Ron manages to coax from the shadows of Hermione's heart is an entirely different matter. COMPLETE, short one shot, formatting now repaired.


**The Magic of Mooncalves**

**by Night Zephyr**

I hate him, you know.

Well, okay, so I don't _hate_ him. But sometimes I hate what he does. Like getting Harry and me involved in his stupid detentions. Mooncalves, indeed - and when I need to study for that Arithmancy exam, too! How in the world could I ever think that he and I...? But I've worked hard to bury those annoying feelings. They're buried deep now and no one, _no one_ will coax them out of me no matter what. They'lI go away by themselves - they will. Just ask Ginny.

Professor Sprout droned on with her instructions about the dung collection, but it was impossible to concentrate. This night was simply too distracting: above me a breathtaking star-filled sky; below, sharp black shadows were etched across a ground of glowing silver.

I glanced at Harry, who rolled his eyes. Luckily, Professor Sprout couldn't see, but I had to try hard not to giggle. Ron caught Harry's look, too; Ron smiled when I looked at him. God, that smile.

Ignore it, Hermione - no matter how it makes you feel. Buried feelings, remember? Buried! But - what's he watching? Against my better judgment, I looked up-

I heard myself gasp out loud, then covered my mouth, hoping that Professor Sprout hadn't heard. They were _so_ beautiful! Above my head, fireflies bobbed and wove around one another, their fluttering wings sparkling silver as the moonlight reflected. Ron notices the most amazing things - for a prat.

"Miss Granger!"

I gasped again, jolted back to reality - and back to my two sniggering detention-mates.

"You're with me, Miss Granger. Gentlemen, your field is behind that outcropping of boulders. You have your specimen pouches?"

Still smirking at me, the two nodded to Professor Sprout before she set off in the opposite direction. I tried to wait until she was out of earshot before telling those sniggering louts that I hoped a stampeding Graphorn found them before they ever happened upon their Mooncalf, but I could only sneer before she called me again.

Professor Sprout stopped near another large field. "Can't tell where they'll choose to dance," she said. "You wait near the burrow's door - it's a tight space. Be completely silent or the Mooncalf won't come out at all. Then, you block the door until we get the dung. Understood?"

"I think so," I said. "Just over there?"

But Professor Sprout was looking down, absorbed in preparing her collector's tongs for her long-awaited prize. So I left.

The long grass swished around my feet and muffled my footsteps. I wondered how Ron and Harry were doing with _their_ Mooncalf - terribly, I hoped, feeling not one bit guilty. I saw the darkened opening of the burrow and circled to the side. I faced the edge of the opening -watching carefully.

Suddenly, I sensed movement behind me. Oh no! Another entrance? Another Mooncalf? What if I was standing right in its path? Frantically deciding what to do, I started to step across the opening to wait on the other side. Then everything happened at once. A pale gray shadow appeared for an instant, then withdrew. Quick but quiet footfalls rushed behind me, a hand clapped over my mouth, and something yanked me backwards.

I reached for my wand, but there wasn't enough room between me and _it_. I clawed at its head, hoping to put out an eye if nothing else. I shoved at my middle to loosen its grip. With a sinking feeling, I realized that what I pushed at was an arm: distinctly human - and distinctly freckled.

"This was supposed to be _our_ Mooncalf!" Ron whispered forcefully, his warm breath in my ear making me shiver. "Out of the way before you scare it!"

My feet hit the ground and I ripped his hand from my mouth. "Before_ I _scare it! You're-"

"Shhhh!" Easily, he lifted me again and pulled me deeper into the shadows. There wasn't much room - he stumbled into the rock wall and I fell against him. We both saw the movement then - and we froze, holding our breath.

The round gray head eased its way from the burrow. Slowly and cautiously, the Mooncalf entered the field. It held its head down as if in thought, then threw it back, taking its body into a fully upright position. Staring at the moon above, its feet began to move - first slowly, then faster and more gracefully, as if the tempo of the music it heard was quickening and becoming stronger.

It was such a glorious sight that my heartbeat quickened and beat stronger, too. This was certainly the night to be entranced by the beauty of things I'd never seen before.

"Wicked..." Ron breathed.

I'd been so focused on the Mooncalf that it hadn't occurred to me, but the warmth of Ron's body reminded me I was still leaning against him. Apparently, it hadn't occurred to him that his arm was still around my waist either. Worse yet - I didn't want him to be reminded.

Bury those feelings, Hermione. Nothing good can come of getting more involved with Ron, remember? I tried repeating the mantra to myself, but it was no use.

I sighed. Nothing good except feeling like this, I thought. And _nothing_ except being with him feels_ this_ good.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Ron whispered in awe, watching the Mooncalf. "Even_ I_ know that when some, erm...creatures...are shy and worried about what'll happen when they come out, there's nothing for it but to wait quietly until they do. Treat them gently, give them what you can, but sometimes the hardest part - is just waiting until you're ready." He choked. "I mean-_they're_ ready. Until the _creature's_ ready, I mean."

The spell was broken. Ron's embarrassed verbal stumbling had brought him back to his task. He squirmed and I stepped forward so he could look for his dung bag.

"You? Waiting patiently?" I asked doubtfully.

"Hey, patience is my middle name, right?" he said dryly, moving toward the field where Harry and a lovely silvery pile awaited him. Then he softened as he turned back to me. "...If she's-erm, _it's_ - worth waiting for."

The Mooncalf rushed by us back to his burrow. I stood there wondering if Ron really meant what I thought he said. Or if I'd only heard what he thought I wanted to hear. Bugger, this was confusing. Ron had certainly coaxed a lot of things out of the shadows tonight. But what really worried me was that now I clearly knew how I felt about him. I sighed in surrender.

Bloody hell.


End file.
